I'm Not Okay, I Promise
by They Call Me The Young Geezy
Summary: My Chemical Romance. Gerard's life at St. Bernadette's high school in Belleville, his love for Claire Green, and his sudden interest in starting a band.
1. Well, If You Wanted Honesty

**Well If You Wanted Honesty…**

I stood in front of what was proclaimed to be my worst enemy: Saint Bernadette High School. It was pretty horrible, if you ask me. A private school for rich kids, please, what was more pathetic.

Unless you were me, I, Gerard Arthur Way, am not a rich kid. Hell to the fucking no. Never. I was sent here by my lovely mother, Donna, who believes that sending me to a preppy school would force me to be… like any other high school kid. Well, I wasn't. I spent my weekends in my hardly-windowed bedroom, drawing comic book characters and monsters. On occasions, I would go out to the local comic book store and spend all day there. And, rarely, I would sing. In the shower, of course. But that was only if no one was home and I felt particularly dirty.

Anyways, so, I was standing in front of our high school, being tormented by a group of idiots. All the jocks make fun of me because of my black hair and my sporadic eye liner fests (usually it was Frank who dared me to wear it to school) and they all thought I was gay.

Well, tell me boys, if I was gay, would I have an abnormal love for Claire Green?

No. I would not.

Claire is probably the only non-preppy girl that attends St. Bernadette's. She has unnatural black hair, carries her guitar case with here everywhere, and is always caught listening to her iPod in class.

But I've never spoken one word to her.

I ignored all the jocks and tried to make my way into the courtyard, where Frank, Ray and Mikey usually were. Mikey is my brother, but he usually gets a ride with Ray… whereas I like to walk to school.

I know, walking around in Belleville, New Jersey is probably the dumbest thing ever. Once I was held to gunpoint in front of a local gas station. But that isn't the point. The point is that in the morning, I can listen to my iPod, and think. It's usually cool outside and since it was fall, the leaves were all changing color.

I walked over to the stairs where we usually sit and talk about everything. They were all there, as usual.

"Hello, Gee," Frank greeted, smiling as wide as ever. "How has your morning been?"

"Fine. You seem awfully smiley. Something going on?" I asked him. He wasn't ever smiling, usually because jocks threw bread at him.

"I got a new guitar," he said, nearly jumping off of the stair he was sitting on. I grinned and nodded.

"Wonderful. Your dreams will be ruined as soon as one of those football whores come over and try and dislocate our face," I warned, sarcastically. Ray and Mikey laughed but Frank just rolled his eyes.

"Just you wait. We're all gonna be insanely successful one day and we'll rule the fucking universe."

Ray then joined in the conversation, "You keep dreaming, Frankie!"

I sat down by them and enjoyed the morning breeze. We all talked about different comics and horror films. The bell rang, that meant I had Trigonometry with Ray and Claire. Frank was a freshman and Mikey was a sophomore and Ray and I were seniors. Claire was a senior too.

The bell rang. Ray and I grabbed our standard black backpacks and walked to trig.

"So, why are you always creepily staring at Claire?" Ray questioned. I almost wanted to smack him. None of my immediate group of friends ever asked me about Claire. They all knew to not mention her. When they had, I nearly stuffed the pen I had been holding down Frank's throat.

I don't know why but I felt eerie just mentioning her name to someone.

I shot a look at Ray and coughed up the following 'sentence', "I dunno whatcha talkin' bout."

I really wasn't using my big boy words, was I? Ray gave me a look of humor and shook his head.

"Whatever, man. I'm just telling you now, if you're gonna be madly in love with her and not tell anyone, you're gonna be a fucking wreck."

I defensively shook my head, "I'm not madly in love with her! I haven't said one word to her!"

He laughed and walked ahead of me, into the classroom that we were approaching.

I sat down in my seat, the farthest back in the class, diagonal from Claire. She smelled like raspberries today. Oh, and she was wearing her short red skirt today. Awesome. Maybe I'd get a view of her ass—

"Mr. Way, I asked you, what is the length of side 'x'," Mr. Meyer sneered. I shrugged.

"I don't know, sir," I plainly said. He sighed and went on about math problems I didn't give a shit about.

Claire looked back at me. Shit, shit, shit. What do I do? Do I smile? Yeah, sure. I gave her my best smirk. She grinned a bit but turned away. Hell yeah! Claire just smiled at me. Gerard: 1. World: 0.

The rest of the first half of the day was the same routine. Science, a mixed class with the freshman for the real dumb asses like me, with Frank was pretty normal. He drank some of the solution and got a real awful stomach ache. He was sent to the nurse's office. He was usually an idiot like that.

Lunch continued on without Frank. Ray, Mikey, and I sat out in the courtyard. The jocks almost looked disappointed that they didn't have little Frank to throw bread at.

"HEY! FAG! Where's your boyfriend?" one buff one called out at me. Oh wait, they're all buff.

"He's not my fucking boyfriend," I sneered. He curled his fists as I got defensive and stood up tall. Mikey led me away from them and kept trying to whisper supportive things like, 'they aren't worth it' or 'they're mentally unstable'. Nothing really helped. I had heard all the same things before.

I had even thought of torture methods I would use for when Frank, Ray, Mikey and I 'ruled the world'.

I ate my ham and cheese sandwich in silence while Ray and Mikey talked about their instruments.

Ray played guitar, like Frank, and was killer at it. Mikey played bass. They all wanted to start a band or something one day. I didn't know how exactly they'd do so, considering our parents were the only people who wanted us to be musically inclined. No one would go to our shows. Seriously, all the local teenagers thought we were some gay emo kids.

Absolutely, I'm a homosexual guy who 'cuts their wrists because I have nothing to live for'.

It made me sick that all people cared about was popularity and image.

"FAG?" a girl yelled, interrupting my thoughts. I looked up to see Grace Peters staring me down with her dark eyes. Her red hair was braided perfectly in the back and she wore a blue plaid skirt with a white blouse. Another prep. A popular one, actually. She continued, "Do you have a dollar?"

He shook his head, wondering where he knew her from… of course, everyone knew her name. Grace Peters was nearly royalty to Belleville. Her family owned an amazing coffee shop just a mile away from school. I would really love the coffee if Grace wasn't such a bitch. But I knew her from somewhere more than that…

"Shit. Whatever. See you around," she muttered.

Ah, her locker was the one Frankie got stuffed into the week before. She opened it and almost peed her pants from screaming so loud. He was chill about it, saying sorry and all, but her parents thought he was trying to rape her or something.

After a long hour of conversation from Frank's mom and Grace's parents, it was settled that Frank had not tried to assault or rape her. That he was just shoved into the locker and freed when Grace opened it.

The bell rang so I started walking to Painting II. It was my favorite class by far. It was also the second class I shared with Claire. She preferred acrylic paint. I liked oil painting.

I walked fast, trying to avoid constant glares from preps and laughing-fests from jocks. I saw Claire on the way there.

_Damn, should I say hi to her? _I thought, trying to control my urge to run up to her and touch her ass or something. _Oh God, her legs are so fucking long… how in the world is she still single… To my knowledge…_

I ignored my pervy thoughts and kept looking straight forward. She was walking near the right wall. Her skirt was so short. When I say short, I mean _short. _Like, if she bent down, I would be looking up her ass.

I passed Frank, who was walking out of the nurse's office, clutching his stomach with a pale look on his face. I stopped him.

"Hey, you feel okay?" I asked. He was nearly translucent. He looked like he was going to puke.

"No… no, man. That stuff I drank… it might have had something really bad in it. I dunno. I should've listened to Mr. Wright. My mom's outside. She's gonna take me home," he explained. I nodded.

"Well, I'll call you later. Bring you some coffee or something."

He nodded and waved goodbye.

Frank lived up the street from my house so whenever we wanted to see each other, we'd just walk.

I then reached my class with Mrs. Alkson. She was the coolest teacher ever. She let us have our iPods out because they inspire us. She usually had a movie playing as we painted. Sometimes, she brought in canvases for us to take home.

I took my seat, in the back of course. It was the one right behind Claire.

The desks were odd, because it was an art class, they were pretty much an upright black desk but it was meant for sketching and painting and that kind of shit. It was pretty cool.

I stared at Claire's hair. It was an odd thing to do but, what the fuck, right?

It was so straight and soft… I just wanted to reach out and touch it. But that'd be really strange. So I resisted the urge.

"Good afternoon, kids," Mrs. Alkson said, gesturing her hands around. Everyone gave a grumbled 'afternoon' which seemed to satisfy her. "Today we're going to be painting your soul."

A geeky boy named Timothy raised his hand and asked, "But, ma'am, we don't know what our soul really looks like. It's just an indescribable noun."

She nodded, "That's the point, Tim!" she sat on her desk after pushing away school papers. "You paint what you interpret your soul to look like!"

A girl named Darcy raised her hand. "But that's impossible."

Mrs. Alkson looked befuddled. "No, Darcy, you just sketch out what you think a soul should look like. Then you'll paint it the colors you imagine it to be."

I liked this project. It would make me think creatively. Not about stupid Trig or science…

Darcy rolled her eyes and nodded. She was another prep, good friends with Grace. Whore. Slut. Innocent-looking. That sort of thing. Darcy has slept with everyone on the football team. She just began banging all the lacrosse boys.

Once we were given a canvas to sketch everything out on, I saw Claire take out her iPod. I leaned over a bit to see what she was listening to. Iron Maiden. Huh. This girl had good taste.

I started sketching out a ghostly-looking creature. It resembled the Grim Reaper in a way. I planned on painting the background a deep red and the ghost black and gray. I looked over my desk to see what Claire was sketching out.

She had made a rose and drew a gun wrapped around its stem.

Any other art teacher would've scolded this and thrown it away. But when Mrs. Alkson walked by, it was the opposite reaction. She loved it. She almost started crying with joy of how perfect it was.

When she saw mine, she told me I was progressing in art a lot. That made me feel okay, I guess.

Claire turned around, her sparkling blue eyes penetrating my dark hazel ones. She then spoke to me. I almost thought I was imagining this but, she actually talked to me. She said, "So, what'd you make, Gerard?"

I wanted to curl into fetal position and die. I was happy. Extremely happy. Like, pee my pants happy. She knew my name and just said five words to me. Holy shit. Holy mother fucker of god.

I gained reality and tried not to look below her neckline. "You wanna see?" she nodded and smiled, getting up and striding to my desk. She took one look at it and her face dropped.

"This is fucking amazing. You _drew _that? You didn't use any sort of stencil?" she inquired, in awe. I tried my hardest not to blush or throw up with excitement.

"Yeah, I draw sometimes."

She beamed, walking back over to her desk… those long legs… taking step… by step…

"That's amazing. You should bring your sketchbook sometime," she told me, turning back to her canvas and sketching out the last details.

Claire Green… she had just talked to me. I wanted to explode with excitement. Seriously. How… what… I mean… her _motive?_ Who the fuck knows… but she talked to me. That's all that mattered.

I ran my hand through my pitch black hair that I had just dyed a few weeks before (maybe that's why the jocks thought I was gay…) but I only did so because I liked the idea of death and darkness.

Anyways, after class was over, Claire waved goodbye (and no, I didn't shit my pants), gathered her things and left.

The rest of the day was average.

I walked home, replaying all of that in my mind… over and over again… exactly what she had said. She said I should bring my sketchbook. I'll do that tomorrow. Easy. I just need to rip out all the pictures of her that I sketched… because that'd be fucking awkward.

I can see it in my head: I'd be showing her pictures of superheroes or something and all of a sudden: Claire Green's lovely face and long legs plastered onto one page.

I bursted through the door, giving my mom a quick kiss on the cheek and saying hi to Mikey. I walked into my room, searching for my sketchbook. It was hidden under Star Wars notes and my grandfather's old bat paperweight.

I ripped out the four pictures I'd drawn of her. Only four. That wasn't too creepy.

It was odd to see the first one I'd drawn, though. It was a close up of her face. I hadn't seen her too many times; I just knew that she was hot… so I kinda drew what I pictured Claire to look like.

The last one I drew though was fucking amazing. Not trying to be vain. But… I had gotten every detail right. Down to the freckle on her cheek… and the length of her eyelashes… wow. I stared at her way to much.

I started drawing an impressive picture of an escalator moving with different kinds of people on it and blood dripping from the sky. I only took two breaks: when my mom brought in pizza that she ordered, and when I had to pee.

Before I knew it, my clock read 2:00 A.M. and I was suddenly really tired. So, I grabbed my sketchbook, put it in my backpack, ignored the fact that I didn't do any homework, and went to sleep.

I only dreamt of Claire Green.

* * *

><p>AN: New story, eh? You like? It's in first person. A challenge. I like it.

I'll update if I get... hmmm... three reviews.

R&R! Thanks you guys. You're amazing. I adore your little comments and I like looking at your stories too.

Listening to: Headfirst for Halos.

Bye!


	2. That's All You Had to Say

…**That's all you had to Say**

I woke up the next morning at around 6:23. I took a shower then got dressed in the usual school uniform, navy jacket, white dress shirt, red and blue tie, and khaki pants, then attempted to brush my hair—which is a big step up for me because I usually just run my fingers through it and leave. I also put on cologne. It was actually Mikey's, but I figured he wouldn't really care.

After getting a cup of coffee and bowl of Frankenberry, I walked to school, listening to David Bowie and thinking about my excuse for not doing my homework. I could say that I was visiting Frank since he's sick.

Shit.

I forgot to bring Frank coffee. Goddamn it, if he's here today, he's going to be all pissy.

I kept walking, passing my beloved comic book store, contemplating whether or not I should go in and look around…

Well, that would lead to me skipping school. Also leading to me not seeing Claire or showing her my sketches.

Too risk-ay.

Once I reached the stairs, Ray, Mikey, and Frank were all there. Frank gave me a nasty look. I just grinned and sat next to him.

"You feeling better, Frankie?" I asked. He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

"No. Because I was expecting a certain someone to bring me coffee last night. But no. Apparently he had better things to do," he growled, as if he was some PMS-ing chick.

I took my sketchbook out of my backpack and showed him what I drew last night. "This was why your coffee could wait."

His eyes widened and he grabbed the picture right out of my hands. His frown easily turning into a grin.

"You're kidding me? You DREW this? Are you sure? You didn't print this out or something?"

Ray and Mikey then got curious and leaned over. Ray said, "That's fucking amazing!"

Mikey added, "That's why you were in your man cave all evening."

I nodded. "Yeah. Thanks. I guess it's alright."

Mikey looked at it again. "Alright! You're shitting me. It's breathtaking. Show it to Mrs. Alkson, maybe she'll put you in Painting III—"

"NO!" I yelled a bit too dramatically. Shit. What was gonna be my excuse this time? Hm, I enjoy the easiness of the class? I… would hate to switch it with 7th period, the only Painting III class? Or, the truth, I wanted to be in the same class with Claire Green?

Ray raised an eyebrow and stated, "This about Clai—"

"NO NO NO!" I raged. "Don't mention her fucking name!"

Frank smirked. "You like Claire Green?"

Mikey whistled. Ray winked. I wanted to kill them. But, I couldn't lie and say I didn't… so I just sat there, giving them all death stares.

I tried to change the subject, "Anyways, I was thinking that you guys could help teach me guitar. Considering I'm the only one who doesn't play an instrument, I thought it'd be cool."

Ray snorted into his coffee. Frank chuckled. Mikey tried not to laugh as he said, "You're… you're joking? Gerard, the last time I tried to teach you how to play "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" on base, you nearly smashed your hand into the wall out of frustration."

I shook my head defensively. "WELL… I was already aggravated that day!"

Frank piped up, "Man, I remember that! You almost strangled your pillow. Oh, god, that was hysterical."

Gerard: 1. World: 1.

"Ha, ha, very funny. Now shut the fuck up," I snarled. Frankie held up his hands up and smiled.

"Just sayin', you can't play guitar for shit," Ray commented. I rolled my eyes as the bell rang. I said bye to Mikey and Frank, and snatched my sketchbook from Frankie, as Ray and I started walking to class.

"So… why did you feel like this day was a great particular day to bring your illustrations?" Ray asked, speculating my motives.

I shrugged. I bet he knew. Ray always seemed to know everything… And he was probably the most trustworthy out of our little group. So I decided; what the hell? He can know.

"Cause Claire asked me to bring it. She wants to see my drawings."

Ray laughed, "You're serious?"

I nodded.

We walked into the classroom, Claire already in her seat, wearing black pants and a red button up shirt.

This was the newest edition to private school attire. Claire rocked it too.

I waved and earned a small smile from her.

Gerard: 2. World: 1.

Class was boring; Mr. Meyer scolded me for not doing the homework and gave me a permission form for my mom to sign.

Bullshit. I wasn't gonna give it to my parents. And, I knew he wouldn't fail me, just because he'd love nothing more than for me to get the fuck out of his life. I maintained a C or D average in almost every class. Except art. I always had an A. Always. Even if I didn't turn a project in, Mrs. Alkson always gave me credit.

Maybe she thought I had potential. I dunno.

Once class was over, Claire waited for me to walk to the next class. I freaked out, of course. She waited. For ME! GERAD WAY! The guy who has barely had a date and hasn't gone farther than second base! Me, Gerard fucking Way!

"So, did you bring your drawings?" Claire asked, her eyes fixing a gaze with mine. I wanted to melt. That sounds totally homosexual… but I wanted to melt. Right there. Just sink into the floor.

I nodded and pulled my sketchbook out of my backpack. After handing it to her, she fingered through the pages, smiling with approval for each picture. We stood outside in the courtyard for at least two minutes. I knew I was going to be late. I didn't care.

"Nice," she said, finishing and handing it back to me. "You've got some real talent, kid."

With that, she beamed and walked away.

Claire. Just said… I have talent. Kid. Holy. Damn.

I walked, in a complete daze, to chemistry with Frank. He seemed apologetic, considering he got to give me a hard time about my shitty guitar skills and I didn't bring his coffee.

Mr. Wright glared at me as I walked in late. I took my seat, next to Frank, of course, and whispered to him, "Claire looked through my sketchbook."

His eyes widened. "_Claire?_ The one you've been obsessing over since around second grade?"

"No, the prostitute I found on the side of the road. Yes, Claire. And she said I have talent."

He nodded. "Nice. You couldn't even mention her name in previous conversations. Like this morning?"

My face flushed an angry color of red. "Well, it's different now."

"Oh, how exactly?" an aggravated look of fury supplemented his face. I shrugged.

Class was rather awkward. Frank and I didn't really talk except when we had to complete the lab Mr. Wright assigned us. Frank and I always seemed to find a way to be mad at each other. It never lasted long.

Civics was uneventful, P.E. was humiliating (as usual), then came lunch. I was walking out of the locker room, praying some jocks wouldn't try to beat me up or something. I walked through the courtyard, the gentle wind causing my jacket to blow a bit.

Then I heard someone calling my name.

"Gerard!"

It was a girl's voice. And it couldn't have been a prep… they all called me a fag… I'm not even sure if they knew my name…

"Gerard!" she called again. I turned around. Claire Green stood, adorable as ever, in front of me.

"Hey," she said, sounding out of breath. "I was wondering if you wanted to eat lunch with me."

I froze. My heart pounded out of my chest. My lungs felt like they were on fire. I inhaled. Better. Wait, what do I do next? Exhale. Okay, I'm good. _Just talk, Gee, _I thought to myself. _Say that'd be awesome._

"That'dbegreat," I said in a mouthful.

"I… I didn't catch that," she laughed. I grinned. I was making a fucking fool out of myself.

"I said… that'd be… great." She nodded. She then took me under a large oak tree. She set her backpack down and sat in the grass. She motioned for me to do to the same.

"This is where you eat everyday?" I asked. She nodded, taking a bite of an apple. Were on the East side of the courtyard. No one preppy ever goes over there. They think it's all too dark… probably because a thousand year old oak tree blocks out all the light.

"So, Gerard, what got you into art?"

I tried to hide my complete excitement and my urge to explode of joyfulness.

"My grandma, I guess. She was always going out and buying my composition notebooks and blank white paper. She gave me the sketchbook I showed you earlier when I was only 13," I rambled. She seemed fixated. It was strange to talk to… a _girl. _I mean, the closest I had to that was Frankie—and that's only because he loved to be theatrical.

"That's really remarkable. I wish I had amazing family like that." Claire gave a dry laugh. "But… anyways… enough about me. You into music?"

I nodded vigorously. Who wasn't into music?

"I always see your friend Toro in first period carrying that damn guitar case around, like I do," she commented, amused. "And… what's his name… Iero? The kid that got stuffed into Grace Peter's locker? He plays guitar too, right?" I nodded. "And your brother plays bass?" I nodded again, wondering how she obtained all this information.

"Why exactly are you questioning my friends' music abilities?" I questioned, curious. It was unlike… anyone to even know who Frank, Mikey, and Ray were.

"No reason in particular. Can you sing?" she inquired. Alright, Claire was crossing the line there. But… it was _Claire. _So, I figured, I'd be honest.

"I suppose. When I was a kid, I was Peter Pan in a musical—" This earned a giggle. "But really, Claire, why?"

She hesitated. Then, she took a bite of her apple, swallowed it, and said, "You and your friends should start a band." I nearly snorted into the Mountain Dew I was drinking.

Shit. The thing I had already considered but was very sensitive about.

"I dunno. Who would really go to see us? The punk-rock ethic isn't too popular to all the stupid preppy teenagers in Belleville," I sighed. She playfully pushed my shoulder, trying to give me motivation. I felt like my internal organs were doing gymnastics inside me or something.

Hah, I could imagine that. My stomach doing summersaults as my liver jumped through a hoop. Oh, and, my small intestine could be doing cartwheels on a balance beam.

Anyways, back to lunch. So she then said, "I would go to see you."

The look on her face seemed as if she meant it. I almost wanted to drop everything, get the guys (shit, I ditched them for Claire…) and go start a mother fucking band. But I didn't do that because that'd mean going away from probably the best lunch of my life.

"You really would? And what music would we play?" I asked.

She sighed, her baby blue eyes swimming with emotions, I just couldn't figure out which ones.

"Punk rock. Not the shit everyone likes. I would help you write it. Come on, Gerard. You seem modest. I bet you're a killer singer. You and your friends… you're like meant to be a band. And my brother, his name is Bob, he can play drums—"

I intervened, "Sorry, Claire, I just don't know if I can make the commitment. Besides, my singing is below par."

She nodded. "I understand. Just think about. See you in next period." Claire then gathered up her things and left me with a stunned look on my face and an unfinished conversation.

Alright, I was officially in love with Claire Green.

* * *

><p>Art was normal. I finished painting my soul.<p>

Yeah, my soul. That's right. A fucking ghost creature is my soul. For sure.

Claire only talked to me once: when she needed "metallic white". Don't ask me why these colors are so specific and have the dumbest names—I know, shit is crazy.

We were forced to paint acrylic too which bummed me out.

When I got home, Mikey was in the garage with Frank and Ray. Mikey was perched on our mom's car while Frank was waiting near a tool box next to a hammer. I hoped he wouldn't get violent. Ray was informally sitting on a lawn chair out in the driveway. They all looked extremely bored.

Frank had a demonic look on his face. That kid can sure make someone fell bad.

I walked up to all of them, trying to look like nothing had happened. Oh, something happened. Claire Green happened.

"Where the hell were you at lunch?" he snarled. I gave him my best Frankie-I-love-you-like-a-brother-and-you-can't-be-pissed-cause-I-was-with-a-hot-girl, smile. He didn't buy it.

"Well, Claire asked me to sit with her…" I started. Frank's frown instantaneously changed into a beam. That kid was insanely bi-polar.

"MORE MORE MORE!" Frank yelled as Ray and Mikey's faces dropped.

Ray had an approving expression as he said, "So, one minute, you're all, 'DON'T YOU SPEAK OF HER NAME!' and now you're all, 'HOLY SHIT I DITCHED MY BEST FRIENDS FOR HER BUT IT'S ALL COOL CAUSE SHE'S HOT!'?"

I nodded, "Yup!"

Mikey started clapping. "Nice. I almost considered going for her but, you know, I'm a sophomore. She'd never go for me," Mikey joked. We all laughed.

"Oh, with your strikingly fruity looks, I'm sure you could win her over," said Frank as he pushed Mikey's glasses up. Mikey always wore them on the tip of his nose. I always told him that it was a stupid thing to do… just cause it looked plain nerdy. But, he insisted, that it was cool.

Keep dreaming, Mikey, keep dreaming.

Anyways, aside from the jokes and all the casual talk going on, I wanted to ask the one thing that was on my mind. The one thing I had to just put in the air. The one thing that Claire requested…

I slowly broke the light, relaxed mood, "So… what would you think about starting a band?"

* * *

><p>AN: Ooooh! Cliffhanger! What're the guy's reactions going to be? Will they start a band? What's going to happen with Gerard and the mysterious Claire? Who's her brother, Bob? Why is her last name Green when the real Bob's last name is Bryar? I know, intense questions that can all be answered if you review! I love you all, this is my favorite story to write. I'll update soon. I know, I said I'd update at 3 reviews, but I couldn't resist!

-Contro

P.S. Killjoy story will commence tomorrow!


	3. I Never Want to Let You Down

**I never want to let you down**

"A BAND?" Frank asked, appalled. Mikey and Ray nodded in approval. Frank still seemed a little… shocked, is the best word I can come up with.

"That sounds… cool. We could play local clubs and stuff. They let minors in if they have a band, right?" Ray conjectured. Ray was already 18, he had gotten held back in kindergarten for being 'too immature'.

I shrugged, "Who knows. I was thinking we could play neighboring festivals, in bigger towns. I dunno. It's all up in the air. We don't even have a band name yet."

"WOAH WOAH WOAH, SO WE'RE OFFICIALLY STARTING A BAND?" Frank shouted. "WHERE IS MY SAY IN THIS?"

Ray smiled, enjoying Frank's little rage. Mikey laughed and hopped off the car and picked up his bass. He strummed a few chords, probably trying to get used to the idea of playing original songs.

"Again, it's all up in the air. If you don't want to be in it Frank, I completely understand. I just thought it might be fun," I assured him.

Mikey then joined in the conversation, "I think it might be fun, Frank. But I'd have to quit my job at the bookstore if we were to practice repeatedly on weekends."

Mikey worked at a nearby Barns and Noble. He used the money to buy his first bass and was now saving up for some comic book he's really into.

"Exactly, we'd have to give up a lot of our lives…" Frank started, cautiously.

Ray then defended my idea, "Well, what if it sucks?—" Defensive tactic number one…? "Then we could just do it for fun, play a few shows, and call it a good time."

Mikey agreed, "Yeah. If people seem to like it, we can make up our minds when we cross that bridge. It'll be cool."

I nodded. Frank let out an angry sigh and then said, "Fine, but just a few songs. Maybe one or two venues if we're lucky. But… why make a bigger fool out of our reputation if we're already on the bottom?"

Ray answered, "Because I don't really think it'd be possible to go any lower."

* * *

><p>We all went out to get coffee at Grace's parent's shop. It was the best fucking coffee I'd ever consumed. I really wished that Grace was nicer… I might've been able to smuggle some free coffee out of her or something.<p>

Frank and Ray went home; they said that they had some studying to do.

It was a Thursday so Mikey was working. He worked Monday, Thursday, and on weekends. It was pretty time consuming for only minimum wage.

I was alone at home—my dad was out on a business trip and mom was working late.

I settled on walking to the comic book store, which was cleverly named 'Graffiti on Steroids'. Mom never approved of me venturing over there. She said that a lot of crimes were reported to be around the store.

I didn't care. It was one of my favorite places in the world.

I changed, putting on a Metallica shirt, some jeans, and my black chucks.

Walking there was a breeze. It was only a mile away. As I entered the small, windowless, colorfully decorated yet surprisingly depressing, little shop, I headed straight over to the new Green Lantern setup. It was fine, I guess. I then saw the comic book Mikey said he had been wanting… I looked at the price tag. _$1,827.99? _Was Michael insane? Why was this object so important to buy when it was so expensive?

I ignored it and started heading over to the cheaper comic arrangement.

Then I saw her.

Claire. It was obviously her. Except she wasn't wearing school uniform, no. She was wearing a black Linkin Park shirt with tight red jeans (I resisted the urge to stare at her ass), a black studded belt and an assortment of black bracelets on her wrists. I tried to hide behind a setup for Harry Potter (what the hell was Harry Potter doing in a fucking comic book store?) then tried to think of something cool to say.

I breathed heavily. Shit. I had to think of something awesome. I could tell her that I took her advice and I was starting a band? Hell yes! Gerard: 3. World: 1. World was going to have to start catching up soon…

I walked up to where she was looking at a Green Goblin comic and tapped on her shoulder. She turned around and gasped, smiling.

"Hey, Gerard!" she greeted. I was still in shock that she knew my name.

"Hey. So I talked to my friends about starting a band." Damn, it was getting almost _simple _to speak with her.

"Aw, you took my recommendation!" she replied, beaming even more widely. I nodded.

"We're gonna try and make a few songs!" I informed her. Her face lit up. She nearly jumped in excitement. Claire wasn't a very happy person but she was definitely showing her soft side.

"Really? That's great! I can call my brother up and see if he'll do it too. I'll meet you at the park near our school tomorrow and I can bring him! I think you guys'll get along fine," she assumed. Wait, call her brother? Was he in college?

I ignored it and decided all could be answered the next day.

"Sure. Sounds awesome!"

She nodded. Then her phone went off. It was the Star Wars theme. I noted that. She checked it and then whispered, "Shit. I gotta go. See you around!"

And then she left. As quickly as I bumped into her, she left. I suddenly had a horrible curiosity for what exactly that text said. I tried to shrug it off but it kept creeping into my mind. It was so abrupt, the way she just kinda… left.

I looked around a bit more then I gave up, not really in the best mood to be looking at comics, and left.

It was around 10 when I got home. I thought about doing my homework. After doing half a problem, I gave up and went to bed, anticipating the next day and all the treasures it would hold.

* * *

><p>Well, turns out, the next day was boring. I saw my friends in the morning. Frank wasn't angry. Mikey was a bit separated from us all… I had decided that I'd ask him about that when I got home. Ray was his usual—the genius.<p>

Then, when Ray and I got to Trig, Claire wasn't there. I had to say, I was enormously upset. I didn't have her phone number (which would've been smart and the perfect thing to ask about the day before…) and it was Friday so I probably wouldn't be seeing her all weekend.

But, I could casually go to the park that evening and see if she shows up. Maybe her mysterious brother Bob would show up.

Ray interrupted my thoughts by throwing a wad of paper at my head. I shot him a glare. He motioned for me to open it.

_Where's your girlfriend?_

I rolled my eyes. Then scribbled below it:

_She isn't my girlfriend! And I don't know! The last time I saw her she said she'd be here today. It's not my problem._

That wasn't a lie. She wasn't my girlfriend, I didn't know, at the comic book store she said 'see you around', and I _wished _it was my problem. But it wasn't. Not yet at least.

I threw it back to Ray and it almost got stuck in his 'fro.

He read what I wrote and smiled.

He threw me back a response.

_Oh, are you sure, Gerard? Cause you looked pretty upset when you saw that she wasn't here…_

I shot him a fiercely (I'm using my homosexual terms) angry stare. Mr. Meyer then walked up to me.

"Is there something you'd like to share with the rest of the class, Mr. Way?" he asked, gesturing to all the preps in the room.

I gave him my best, I-really-hate-you-please-don't-read-this-aloud smile. He took the note anyway.

"Oh, who is your girlfriend, Mr. Way?" he inquired out loud to the class. My face burned red as all the preps snickered.

"No one," I muttered. No one heard me over the roaring of laughter though. Mr. Meyer wanted to ruin my life, didn't he?

"Is it Miss Green? Because she's the only student absent today in this class. Oh, how she'll have a joy of hearing this when she's back on Monday," Mr. Meyer scorned. I wanted to tackle him…. But I didn't. Detention wasn't too fun with Mr. Meyer.

"No, sir, I'm not dating Claire," I retorted, sticking my nose up at him. He smirked and walked back to the front of the class, clutching the paper Ray and I had passed notes on.

I turned to Ray and mouthed, 'You owe me.'

He mouthed, 'Sorry!' and frowned. I rolled my eyes again and put my head down the rest of the class. It'd be a long day.

* * *

><p>Turns out, chemistry was fine, civics was fine (the teacher was a breeze), P.E. was awful (as expected), lunch was normal, and the rest of the day was fine.<p>

Except Claire didn't show up.

After school, I walked to the park and just waited around, leaning on a large willow tree. I saw some guy looking around, confused. He had black hair and blue eyes. Maybe this was Bob?

"Hey!" I called after him. He looked puzzled. "Are you Bob?"

He wrinkled his nose. "No, I'm William. I will not give you money. Get away from me," he said, walking away. I sighed. I never seemed to have any luck with people.

Then I saw a red haired guy with a beard, looking around, asking people different things. I considered going and asking him if he was Bob but ignored it.

"Hey, are you Gerard?" he asked William, the guy I scared off.

"NO I AM NOT ANYONE BUT WILLIAM, GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!" he yelled as he ran through the valley and down near where a set of swings were. The red head shrugged and moved on.

He walked up to me. He had to be Bob.

"Are you Gerard Way?" he questioned. A smile played my lips.

"Are you Bob?"

He held out his hand. I shook it. "Claire had an appointment. I'm Bob Bryar."

I nodded. "Wait, isn't Claire's last name Green?" His face dropped a bit. He lost some color in his cheeks.

"Oh. That. Yeah, she lives with our mom. That's her maiden name. I live with my dad about 30 minutes outside of town. I'm homeschooled. 11th grade."

I tried to change the subject, "You ever been in a band before?"

We then spent the next hour or so discussing different styles of music and bands. We tried to debate different names but the whole naming process was rather difficult.

At the end of the day, I went got Bob's number, and walked home to a puzzled Mikey on the couch.

"What's up, four eyes?" I asked as I set my backpack next to the door and sat next to him on the couch.

He hesitated. "I saw this book… yesterday when I was working… I was stacking it up and I glanced at the cover. _Ecstasy: Three Tales of Chemical Romance _by Irvine Welsh… Chemical Romance… I was thinking it could be our band name."

My eyes lit up, appalled. Mikey had never been this much of a super genius.

"Chemical Romance? THAT'S FUCKING AMAZING, MICHAEL!" I yelled, grabbing him into a brotherly hug. He smiled a little, still out of it.

"Well… what if we put 'the' or something in front of it."

"Hm… The Chemical Romance?" I asked. He shook his head. "Your Chemical Romance?" he shook his head again. "Our Chemical Romance?" he shook his head yet again.

"What about My Chemical Romance?"

* * *

><p>AN: Hey guys! New chapter, eh? Yes. I know. It's brief. It kinda sucks. I just needed to jam a few things in there. So we met Bob! And we know that his last name is Bryar so that question was answered. But… why the hell wasn't Claire at school? And what kinda music is this… MCR gonna play? Oh, God, I sound like my mom. xD

Alright, this is Controversial Mayhem signing off.

P.S. Sorry, killjoy story isn't up! I had something going on. It'll be up tomorrow, I hope. I'm about halfway through writing it and it's insanely long, so yay!


	4. Or Have You Go

A/N: Yes, I know, I'm not okay is on Three Cheers. Deal with it. Okay? Okay! Now read on so you know what the fuck I'm talking about!

* * *

><p><strong>Or Have You Go<strong>

That night, I could barely sleep. It was around three in the morning when I finally changed into my skeleton pajamas and crawled into bed. I was suddenly disturbed by my phone buzzing on my desk. I answered it, not recognizing the number.

"Hey, Gerard?" a fimiliar voice asked.

I was exahsted and didn't feel like being too polite so I responded with, "Who the fuck is calling me at this hour?"

The other line got silent. He then cleared his throat and said quietly, "It's Bob."

I suddenly got a bit less tired. I widened my eyes and sat up. "Hey, yeah Bob. What's up?"

He awkwardly answered, "I have an idea. For a song."

"This early? Better be fucking great," I laughed, partially kidding. Bob didn't take it too horribly.

"Yeah... well, you know how your life at school is shit and everyone hates you?"

I didn't recall mentioning this to him but I nodded, forgetting he couldn't see me, and said, "Sure. Yeah. Why?"

He muttered, "Well... what if we had a song called _I'm not okay_? Just about all the shit that happens. I mean, I just began being homeschooled. I went to Belleville High and it was a goddamn living hell. So... what do you think?"

I rubbed my eyes, wondering why this couldn't wait until the morning. "Whatever you wanna do, Bob. I like it. You should come over tomorrow and meet the rest of the guys."

His voice suddenly was filled with happiness, "Really? That'd be fucking great. I'll call for directions when I'm on my way."

"Sure. Yeah, goodnight," I said, hanging up the phone and going to sleep.

Little did I know, Bob had the idea for the first ever song by My Chemical Romance.

* * *

><p><strong>Claire's POV<strong>

So, I guess you could say, I was completely in love with Gerard Way.

Well, I mean, it was more of a fascination, really. Like the way he smiles out of one side of his mouth and his lovely dark hair... and his artwork was just phonominal.

But I wasn't sure what was keeping me from telling him so. Well, we'd kinda known each other all of our lives. I guess ever since I found out about... what was happening to me, I kinda just wanted to leap at the chance to be with him while I had it.

I just hoped that he felt the same way. What if I told him and he was completely and utterly embarassed and decided that he would never speak to me again... and he thought I was a fucking joke.

But the way he stared at my ass told me a different story.

Let me get this straight: I am not one for those guys who are pigs. Like when Mr. Jock decides that I'm his new sex toy, I run in the other direction. But the way that Gerard tried to hide his sincerity kinda turned me on, I guess.

It all started in third grade when I was the only kid who would bring in Metallica CDs to playtime and he would bring Def Leppard. Our teacher obviously did not approve but I found such character in Gerard.

There was another time in seventh grade when we both went to Ricky Nickleson's party. All of homeroom was invited and my mom decided to force me to go.

So we were playing spin the bottle, right? And Gerard had this little look on his face the whole time that said: I-don't-wanna-fucking-be-here-right-now. He was dared to kiss Darcy, some whore that's slept with nearly every guy in the school.

But he refused to kiss her.

That's what was so amazing. He just resisted. She was all up on him too, saying things like, "Come on, it's just a little kiss."

I remember Gerard wrinkling his nose and saying, "Fuck that, whore." As he gestured to her push up bra and slutty dress.

He then left, walking home or something. That may have sparked my interest...

Bob then called me, interrupting my thoughts about Gerard, I picked up and said, "Hey. What's up? It's 3 in the morning."

He silently laughed. "I know. I just called Gerard... told him my idea for a song. I'm really excited. Thanks, Claire, for introducing me to them."

I smiled. Bob was such a sweetheart at times. "Anytime, Bryar. We should hang out again soon."

"Definately, sis. Now go to bed. You should be sleeping. You've got another appointment tomorrow."

I sighed. Shit. I forgot. "Sure thing. Thanks for reminding me."

"No problem," he said as I hung up the phone. It was going to be a long weekend.

* * *

><p><strong>Gerard's POV<strong>

Bob came over on Saturday, along with Ray and Frank. We established that Ray would play the more intense solo guitar parts while Frank would just stay on melody. We had also figured out where we would practice: In Mikey and I's garage on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Mikey was working all day so he wasn't there for our revalations and shit.

Frankie kept having these weird spaz attacks all day. Like, he'd get all excited then he'd be chill. It was really weird. Ray seemed super into everything.

Bob explained that he wrote the song _I'm Not Okay_. It was pretty great. I mean, Bob cannot sing but he did a pretty great job presenting it.

By the end of the day, we were getting the hang of the song.

"_Well if you wanted honesty, that's all you had to say._

_I never want to let you down or have you go, it's better off this way..."_

We almost sounded like a decent band. Mikey got home around 7 and started freaking out once we played him the song. He picked up pretty quickly.

By 11 P.M., we had the first My Chemical Romance song.

* * *

><p>AN: Short, I know. I thought Claire's part made up for it. :)

So, what's with her and these weird appointments! You'll have to review to find out! ;)

I'll do a much longer one next time, I promise.


	5. It's Better Off This Way

A/N: I don't know why, but I was listening to This Ain't A Scene, It's An Arms Race by Fall Out Boy, while I wrote most of this. So, I guess I suggest you listen to that also. It's an amazing song… and… I think I'm going to go cry in a corner right now 'cause this is fucking depressing.

Sorry there isn't too much dialouge... and sorry it's a bit dry. I haven't had much experience writing _this _particular sort of hurting kind of thing, ya know?

xoxo, Contro

* * *

><p><strong>It's Better Off This Way<strong>

**Claire's POV**

The doctors stuck a needle into my arm. I didn't flinch. I'd been sick long enough to adapt to pain.

I looked around the room. The bright lights and the eggshell white walls screamed that it was an insane asylum…. Thank god I hadn't gotten to _that _point yet. Once the chemotherapy was over with, I was fine.

The nurse smiled and said, "So, how's school, honey?"

I tried to grin back. I failed. "Fine."

I knew that she was trying to avoid the main topic: I was going to die. I was fucking sick and going to die. I pretty much had a date set, too. I knew what was happening to me.

Let me explain: I had cancer, really horrible cancer. Pancreatic. There was a survival rate of 4%. I was apart of the vast 96%. I honestly don't know too much simply because the information on how I was going to die was disturbing. Most go on with life, not expecting death and avoiding its gaze. I, on the other hand, was death's main target for some reason.

Anyway, it spread to my liver. I was on chemo for a while then they said I was completely done for. Pretty much already dead. My hair already was ditched and I wore a pretty damn convincing wig most of the time. Nausea was common. I could barely ever sleep. I didn't eat. I couldn't. That's why I was so thin. No one really noticed me beforehand so why would they notice me after I was diagnosed?

I'd been this way for a while. It was only recently had it gotten this awful. The past year was complete hell. I missed almost all of my junior year—barely enough credits to pass. The school system understood relatively, though. I was in summer school to catch up. Everyone assumed that I was just a complete idiot. I wasn't. I was actually pretty smart. I wanted to be a rocket scientist or something. But I couldn't. Death was in my way of progressing in life.

The only thing I wanted, more than anything, was to tell Gerard Way that I loved him. But that would cause a whole upbringing, considering I was going to die. If he felt the same way, it'd be a blissful but depressing last month. If he just wanted to be friends, an upsetting and awkward month approached me.

I just had to tell him. I really had to. And he had to start this fucking band. Sometimes, I just knew things. This was one of those things… his musical capability, to be exact. Along with his friends… they just had something special.

The nurse pulled the needle out of my arm, placed a band aid on my skin, and carried a bag of my blood out of the room. They still insisted on the dumb tests to assure me that I had a few months left.

Mom walked in, putting her phone away and kneeling to my side. She had tears in her eyes.

"You okay, sweetie?" she asked me. I think she was trying to guarantee herself more than anyone that I was okay.

"Sure," I blankly answered, looking away. Mom stood up and kissed the top of my head. My wig. Not my own hair. Someone else's.

"Bob just called. He wanted to come today but he said that you insisted on him being with his new friends. Is that true?"

I nodded. We hadn't told her about the band yet. She didn't have to know. Not until I was dead.

Dead…. I would be dead. That part was still haunting me a bit.

"Well, that's nice. He hasn't been really social since… what happened," Mom continued. I nodded again.

"Yeah. After I found out. He tried to kill himself… because of me," I muttered quietly. Mom barely heard me but she gasped.

"Don't say that, Claire Bethany Green! It was not your choice. It was his. He decided to do attempt that awful tragic…"

She couldn't continue. So I did. "He decided to try and kill himself. You and dad started fighting. You divorced. Simple as that," I blankly said, still not looking at her.

Mom was crying now, wiping tears from her eye lids. I rolled my eyes. When was my mother _not _crying?

"Your… your father and I…"

"Please, I was too much of a hassle for you both to whine over—"

"Honey, you aren't a hassle!"

"—OH WHATEVER! YOU CAN BARELY PAY TO KEEP ME ALIVE," I shouted. Nurses passing by the room then stared at me. I buried my face in my hands. I didn't cry. I couldn't. Mom and I were always fighting like that. It was sad, really. She should have been comforting her dying daughter. She should have been doing a lot of things. But she wasn't.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, darling," Mom said then began walking towards the door. She turned around and added, "I'll go wait in the car." Then she left.

I put my knees up to my chin and cried. I had many reasons to. One: I was going to die. Two: my brother was suicidal. Three: my mom argued with me about everything and was only sane because of my death. Four: my dad refused to see me.

When I was ready, I wiped my running eye liner, fixed my hairpiecish thing, and walked out into the parking lot. On the way there though, I called Gerard. I needed to get it over with.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Hey, Gerard, it's Claire."

His voice immediately brightened, "CLAIRE! HEY! What's up?"

I ignored his happiness and went straight to the point, "Let's meet for coffee. At the Peters'. Grace's family owns it."

Even though I couldn't see him, I knew he was nodding. "Yeah, yeah. What time?"

"Soon as you can."

"See you!"

I hung up. I wiped the last of the smeared makeup off my cheeks and got into mom's car. It was my third doctor's appointment in a row. I definitely wasn't the most content kid out there.

"Drive me to the coffee shop," I told my mom. She shot me a look.

"That seems like a demand, Claire."

I shifted in the seat and put the safety belt on. "Just please. I only have a month left. This is all I'm asking for."

Mom nodded. The hospital was only about eight minutes away from the shop. I told mom I'd walk home. She agreed, even though my chance of death would increase if I was out on the streets of Belleville.

Gerard was waiting outside. It was time.

* * *

><p><strong>Gerard's POV<strong>

Aw, she looked cute. But she looked upset. Oh god, time to break out my romantic side…

"Hey," she said blankly, walking up to where I was standing. She looked up into my eyes.  
>"Well hello there. Did I tell you My Chemical Romance made their first song?"<p>

She smiled at this. I felt all warm inside.

"That's remarkable. Have I ever told you that your eyes are stunning?"

My heart felt like it was on fire and trying to push through to my fucking throat. You're kidding me. Claire mother fucking Green. Hell yeah.

"Uh… well… not exactly. But… that's cool," I rambled. I didn't know exactly what to do. That's when she broke our gaze and grabbed my hand, walking into the shop. What the hell was going on?

"I need to talk to you," she stated, walking over to a table.

"Wait do you want to get some—"

She intervened, "No. Now."

I tightened the grip she had on my hand. I think I was sweating.

"Sure, sure."

She sat down on a booth near a door and put her hands on her face, screwing with her hair. I sat down across from her.

"Is something wrong?" I questioned, her sanity being a huge concern for me.

She put her hands to her face and water seemed to be seeping from her eyes.

"Gerard, are you in love with me?" she casually asked, removing her hands from her eyes and staring directly at me.

Shit. Did she know?

"Uh… well…"

"I know. Trust me."

I awkwardly twiddled my thumbs. My heart felt like it was going to leap out of my fucking chest and every cute pickup line I that had just crossed my mind was now stricken.

"Then yes."

She wiped tears from her eyes and looked around to see people around us staring. Grace was strutting around in a small skirt, at the cash register staring at us, confused. I looked back to Claire, her eyes puffy and red. I felt horrible and terrified. It was all happening. This was it. The start to my first love story…

"I'm dying."

…And the end of it too. I looked at her for a second, perplexed. She couldn't be serious. Could she?

"We all are," I smirked. She nearly started crying again. What the fuck was going on?

She took my hands and whispered, "No. I'm dying. I'm sick. I have a month, give or take."

My heart felt like it had been ripped out and shred to pieces. The seriousness in her eyes told me everything. It hurt. My mind felt as if someone had torn it out of my ears. I couldn't hear anything. I couldn't hear the chatter of informal coffee consumers, I couldn't hear my legs shaking, I couldn't hear Claire crying, and I couldn't hear my heart beating. She wasn't serious. She couldn't be. I barely knew her. Well, I did know her. I'd known her all my life. It's just… she… what the fuck?

I didn't know what to say. I honestly couldn't say anything. My eyes were soon coated with a liquid that had been long missed. She let one of her soft hands touch my cheek. I pushed it away. I didn't want to be comforted. I wanted to know what was going on. I wanted to know why she brought me here to tell me. I want to know why she wanted to tell _me. _Why me? Why… why me?

"Gerard," she breathed. "Let's go take a walk."

She helped me up. I couldn't feel my legs. Was this normal?

Claire took me outside and grabbed my hand yet again. I felt like I wanted to curl into fetal position and die of somber sorrow.

"If it makes you feel any better, I love you too," she whispered, wrapping an arm around my stomach and burying the side of her head into my arm. I still couldn't talk. My legs felt like it was some robotic sci-fi machine was controlling my every step.

This was real. I wasn't dreaming. This wasn't a dream—much less a fantasy. This was reality. Fucking hell. Why the hell is it me?

Finally, when words felt like they could escape my mouth, I respired, "You… you're _dying?_"  
>She nodded. "Technically, like you said, we all are. But yes. Much more quickly."<p>

I tried to focus my attention to all the trees with orange, red, and brown leaves surrounding us, the nice breeze, the fact that she was so close to me, and the feeling of her heartbeat. I couldn't focus on that, though. The whole thing still burned into my head.

"Why'd you tell me?"

She shrugged then stopped walking. We were near a park so she started to go sit down on a bench. I followed her. It faced the street. I took her hand again.

"Because I like you… I just didn't want you to go through hell, dating me and having me die before your eyes. I feel selfish telling you so late that I felt this way and that… this was happening to me… but I… I like you. And I knew you liked me," she slowly said. I nodded deliberately.

"Right. Sure. Why the band obsession?" I blurted out. She again shrugged.

"Cause you're awesome…? I dunno. I have a feeling about it."

It seemed so casual… like we were speaking of the weather.

It finally happened. I was with Claire. She was in love with me. But she was also dying. Slowly and painfully.

I'm not o-fucking-kay.


	6. For All The Dirty Looks

A/N: Finally, I'm updating! Yay! And I'm at the beach! It's super fun-tastic. Please review? Thanks youuuu! xD

* * *

><p><strong>For All The Dirty Looks<strong>

Claire took me home. We hadn't said anything to each other. She just kissed my cheek and left me at my home. I didn't _have _anything to say. Honestly, it was like someone had stabbed me. No, they stabbed me but dug the knife around. It hurt. Bad.

I went straight to bed. Mikey rushed in, he stared at me for a little while. Then he raged.

* * *

><p><strong>Mikey's POV<strong>

I was pissed. Gerard had been acting like a totally different person ever since the whole fucking band idea. He'd probably ask me to quit my job soon. I was saving up for Watchmen. I mean, seriously. How could he not want me to get the most radical comic ever? Seriously?

Gerard was already sitting on his bed with a dreary look on his pale face and looked like suicide was gonna go down soon. I decided, this was the perfect time to confront him.

Besides, I had come up with some song lyrics. Maybe that'd make up for the shit that was gonna go down.

"Hi," I said to him, walking closer to his bed. Ever since I moved into the basement, Gerard had completely trashed our old room. Shirts, paint, boxers, comics, and albums covered the carpet.

Gerard merely nodded, his eyes red as if he'd been crying.

What the fuck did he have to cry about?

"I said hi," I repeated. Gee nodded again.

"Hello," he hollowly whispered.

I put my hands on my hips and eyes him. He looked up at me, half-smiled, and went back to staring at the wall.

I decided to take action.

I ran up behind him and grabbed the one pillow he kept on his bed. He just began warning, "What are you-?" But it was too late. I was hitting him with his pillow fiercely, repeatedly, and angered. He kept screaming, "WHAT THE HELL, MAN?"

"WHY-ARE-YOU-BEING-SUCH-A-FUCKING-LONER?" I shouted, hitting his face multiple times. He tried to wave his arms around in defense but I was too ninja-like for him.

"CUT IT OUT!" Gerard finally yelled, standing up and walking out of his own bedroom, shutting the door behind him. I was left, in HIS room, to wonder: was there something actually wrong?

* * *

><p><strong>Bob's POV<strong>

"...And... he... I... WHY DO I HAVE TO DIE?" Claire screamed to me. I held her in my arms, trying to shush her. I wasn't awesome with the whole comforting thing but she was my sister and I loved her a lot.

"Do you love him?" I calmly asked her. I was sure that this was what it would come to-her being attached to Gerard would make her passing a lot more difficult.

She looked up at me, tears flooding from her eye lids. She tried to smile and nodded slowly. I understood.

"Then tell him."

"I... did..."

"WHAT?"

She sobbed a bit more lightly, "I'm... I'm sorry! I-I-I didn't know-"

"No, no," I laughed, "I don't mind. Trust me."

She nodded, burying her face into my chest. I stroked her hair but it started falling off. Shit. That'd make it worse. She'd be pissed.

"He likes me too," Claire whispered. I nodded.

"Sounds like third grade all over again."

Claire hit my arm and laughed, wiping tears from her face. She sat upright on the couch and looked straight at me. "You know, Bob, I'll miss you. A lot. You have no idea how much you mean to me, honestly. You're a great brother."

I held back tears at this. I don't remember the last time I cried-it could've been when I was being birthed my mother. Claire had a way about her that was so unlike any other human being. She was the best older sister I could've ever asked for. Fuck, I sound like a Disney character in one of those animated 'comedies'.

"Love you too," I said, grabbing my phone off of the coffee table and standing up.

"Where are you going?" Claire asked as she stood up beside me, fixing her hair.

"Gerard's house. I've got a band to practice with."

"Bob, no. He's probably upse-"

"You wanna go too?"

She pointed to herself. And had a confused expression glazed upon her pale, thin face.

"Yes, you!"

"No... no... seeing me will remind him that I'm gonna die and shit," Claire muttered, backing up a bit.

"Then its best you spend your last few weeks WITH him!" I chuckled, grabbing her arm and the car keys. She nodded, wrapping me into a tight hug.

"Thank you."

"For...?"

"Everything."

We then let go of each other and headed to the Way residents. I really did love my sister.

* * *

><p><strong>Frank's POV<strong>

"Name him crap. Then he can be Crap Toro," I said laughing, nearly falling off of Ray's office chair. He sat on a black plastic chair at the computer, controlling the Sims Ray.

"Bleh. So unoriginal."

I laughed. Ray and I were playing Sims 3. We made Ray and this chick he thought was hot named Christa. They had a baby boy. I loved the Sims.

"Name it... Fucking Toro. That sounds pretty pervy."

He shot me a look and dryly chuckled, "You're pathetic."

"Oh, do you have any better ideas?"

Our conversation was interrupted by the buzz of my phone going off on Ray's desk. He, sitting closer to the source of the vibrating, grabbed it and checked the caller ID.

"Bob?"

"FUCKKKKKK! Do we have practice?"

Ray shrugged, "I don't remember planning anything."

"Always the responsible one, wanting to plan events." Ray rolled his eyes, tossing my phone to me. I caught it and answered, "BOBERT! What be up?"

His voice was stiff on the other line, "You wanna rock out today? I have Claire with me. She could be our first potential fan."

I heard Claire giggle in the background.

I said, "Sure. I'm actually at Ray's house right now. We'll head over to Gerard's place."

"Awesome beans!" Bob said and hung up.

"Ready?" Ray asked, shutting off the game and standing up. I nodded.

"Let's go raid the Ways."

* * *

><p><strong>Gerard's POV<strong>

After Mikey hit me with my own fucking pillow, I escaped outside into our garden. Mom always kept really great care of it and there was one section in the back that was covered mostly by eucalyptus trees and a huge willow tree. It had about enough space for two grown people. I sat back there and thought about life a lot.

This seemed like the perfect time to go think.

Only Mikey knew where this spot was and I highly doubted that after upsetting me like that, he'd go find me. But, you never know. Mikey has his ways.

Heh, ways.

But I wasn't in the mood to joke about anything-not even my odd sense of thought humor.

That's when a line crossed my mind: _Because the hardest part of this is leaving you._

That wouldn't make sense for me, though. Would it?

No. For Claire. If she was speaking to me and stated that, it'd make sense.

Weird.

_Now turn away..._

WHAT THE FUCK WAS CROSSING MY MIND? AND A VOICE WAS SINGING IT TOO! ...My voice?

_Cause I'm awful just to see..._

I took my head in my hands and bent down, leaning against the bark of the willow.

I didn't want a magical song popping into my head. That was so uncalled for and I'd prefer if I could have these awesome thoughts when I NEEDED to think of lyrics.

_Cause all my hairs abandoned, all my body, all my agony..._

WHAT. THE. FRUIT.

I then screamed. No, not a girly high-pitched scream. More of a yell. For help. From anyone. But I didn't wish for that help.

The scream sounded rather like this, "AHHHHHHHHHHGAAAAAA!"

My poor, dear mother, rushed out and saw me in the corner of her garden, crying, shaking, clasping my hands over my ears, and covered by many of her precious trees.

She didn't run over to me and cry along side myself, she merely said, "Your friends are here, Gerard."

I looked up at her, my face in ruins. I probably looked like a raging lunatic. I knew my cheeks were red, I could feel the blood gathering to my face. This is when I sobbed even harder, trying to turn away from my mom so she wouldn't see me like this.

_Know that I will never marry..._

STUPID FUCKING LYRICS.

I pounded my fists against the ground and tore grass up from the earth. I kicked, I yelled, and I cried. What was I supposed to do? None of this was fair. Claire loved me, that's fucking great. But she's sick. So there. And she's going to die. No matter what I do. I can't prevent that and that's the part that sucks the most.

_Baby, I'm just soggy from the chemo and counting down the days to go..._

I kicked a tree. That wasn't a good idea. I then spent the following 27 seconds shouting in agony. That's when I saw a beautiful figure emerge from a cluster of roses. She walked up to me, saw my rockish bottom point, and caressed her hand on my cheek.

I could barely see, my eyes were so coated with mushy tears-but I obviously knew who it was.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and stroked my hair.

"It's not your fault," she soothed. "Trust me, it is not you're fucking fault."

I had a huge lump in my throat so words seemed to be a bust. I just nodded and embraced her back. She smelled like doctors. Poor girl.

Somehow, I could feel her face sobbing into my shoulder too. Goddamn it, she wasn't crying, was she? It was such a suck fest.

"Do I have band practice?" I coughed out. She let go and looked into my eyes, releasing a saint like laugh from her lips.

"Yes, yes, you do. And I get to watch you. I heard you've already completed one song. Well done, Way."

I smiled and let go of her torso but grabbed her hand. She had this odd secret power thing that made my mood immediately boost.

"Why thank you, Green."

We walked back inside to a very confused Ray, Frank, and Mikey.

Fuck, they didn't know about the cancer situation. Bob sat on the couch, away from where my other friends stood, staring in amusement.

There was an extremely awkward silence. All I could hear was mom vacuuming Mikey's basement and the air conditioner going on and off.

Frank, being the silliest goober ever, decided to break it by saying, "WOO! Gerard is gettin' some!"

Claire was the first and only person to laugh. Mikey, Ray and Bob stared at Frank in shock. I just laughed aside my wonderfully awesome girlfriend.

"Yes indeed, Iero. Yes indeed."

* * *

><p>AN: WELL HELLO WORLD!

How have you been?

I'm fine. I'm laying in bed, eating my baked lays, on my laptop. Pretty cool. Well, it isn't my laptop, actually. I wish it was.

Anyways, TANK YOU FOR READING! And it'd be super cool if you'd review.

I'll try and update a bit faster next time.

Au revoir, Contro May


	7. The Photographs Your Boyfriend Took

A/N: Sorry I dropped off the face of the universe. I've had school.

Sidenote: I'm rediscovering my love for the rather cheesy though decent-ish Repo! the Genetic Opera. I had my iPod on shuffle and out of 1,000 songs, it picked Night Surgeon. K, sorry, I just thought that was odd xD

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIKEY WAY! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH IT'S UNEXPLAINABLE. I CANNOT WAIT TO SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS. :D

* * *

><p><strong>The Photographs Your Boyfriend Took<strong>

**Gerard's POV**

One thing I didn't want to think about was school. I had a girlfriend with cancer, a group of fucking mental friends, and a band to worry about. My shit wasn't together.

So, walking onto the lawn of St. Bernadette's was miserable. But, I was holding Claire's hand. So, that was consoling.

"Don't worry," she whispered in my ear. "They're all hijacked with insane hormones."

I laughed and kissed her cheek. Here goes nothing.

We waltzed up the steps where the guys usually sat. They weren't there yet. Fucking hell. Now Frank isn't there to be a target when people throw bread at us.

"HEY, EMO LOVE!" some guy in a varsity jacket yelled across the courtyard. Okay, first of all, there are so many things wrong with that statement. Emo means emotional, correct? And I was probably the least emotional guy EVER. Well, of course, except that weekend when I found out that my girlfriend had cancer. Though I hoped no one at school saw my rage. Second, I'm doing nothing more than holding hands with Claire. We were not having sexual goddamn intercourse on the sidewalk.

Claire had a devious smile plastered on her thin face and yelled back, "OH HEY, ARE YOU HAVING FUN FUCKING EVERY GIRL IN SCHOOL?"

The guy gave her a blank stare. I was in shock too. I had never expected Claire to retort in such a way that could have gotten us in trouble. But, whatever, she could do whatever she wanted. Death was nearly planned for her.

"That... that was... that was sexy," I slowly muttered so she possibly wouldn't hear me. But truly, I had never seen a girl scream something like that at a guy. It was highly attractive.

She nodded. "I've only got a few more weeks to live, so, what the hell?" Claire smirked.

Goddamn it, did that have to linger into every conversation? I ignored arguing that because the guys were all walking towards us. Oh god. They'd tease. Shit. Shit. Shit.

"LOVE IS IN THE AIR!" Frankie shouted, throwing his arms in the air. Jesus, he sounded like a preacher in Vegas. Though, it was better than the 'emo love' remark from that creep across the schoolyard.

"Tis, young Frankie. Tis," Mikey nodded, grinning.

Claire stood up and said, "Well, I want to get to class early so I don't get mauled by the animals that barricade the school." She glanced to where that guy was sitting with his friends. "I'll see you in first period."

I nodded as she left. She didn't like to rush in with a huge swarm of students to school.

Oh, shit. My friends didn't know she had cancer.

That would be an issue in the near future.

Though, I could NOT tell them that at school. That would just be stupid. Frank would have some homosexual breakdown (not that he told me he was gay... but he was my best friend. I knew), Mikey would just stare at me with his ninja-like-unicorn-eyes, and Ray would probably ramble. So, I'd save that for band practice on Tuesday.

* * *

><p><strong>Claire's POV<strong>

"Good morning, Miss Green," Mr. Meyer greeted as I walked into Trig and took my seat. The bell hadn't rung yet, I just liked getting to class early.

"Morning."

"Did you enjoy your weekend?" he asked, not turning away from the problems he was writing out on the board.

"I guess."

Mr. Meyer stopped screeching the chalk on that god awful chalkboard and turned to me, his eyes piercing mine.

"Miss Green, the school has some medical records that your mother was kind enough to lend us—proof for your absence this prior year."

OH SHIT. He would NOT talk to me about my cancer. Nope. Not my creepy Trig teacher.

I nodded, "So?"

He hesitated but began pacing around his desk, folding his arms on his chest, "So, all of your teachers know... your condition."

My fists curled as I sat on the edge of my seat, defiantly staring at him. He was talking to me like I was different... or special... or handicapped. Though, I replied through clenched teeth, "What condition?"

Mr. Meyer sighed and sleeked back his disgustingly greasy hair. "You're rather sick. You shouldn't be in this kind of environment with... enabled students."

That was it. I had it. I was perfectly capable of going to school and interacting with people. So, I looked into his unbearably grey eyes and remarked, "Well, Mr. Meyer, maybe I shouldn't be in an environment with teachers like you. You aren't genuinely worried about me—you think that I'm gonna get someone else sick, right?"

He looked surprised. Like, really surprised. I didn't even know what was coming out of my mouth. I kinda wished that I had stayed with Gerard and his friends...

Maybe Mr. Meyer wasn't the creepy pervert that I had imagined him to be. Maybe he had a wife and kids and a whole other life I don't know about.

I checked his left hand. No ring. Hmph. I assumed that my first prediction was closer to the truth.

Anyway, Mr. Meyer pierced my skull, blah, blah, and he was giving me looks of death. That sort of shit.

"Actually, Claire, I wish you to be at home because I am well aware that you'll be wasting your time at school by this point. You're nearing the end. You should be doing things you've always wanted to do."

I blankly gazed at him. "And you know all of this because...?" He sighed again and twiddled his thumbs.

"My sister is gone. She died from a similar condition to yours. She was only 17, the same age as you, correct?"

I nodded, feeling a bit sorry for a few sketches that I had made of Mr. Meyer getting strangled by a repo man.

"She died without accomplishing life goals of hers."

I looked down at the desk and read a few of the things written on it, trying to ignore Mr. Meyer making me feel awful. I got my bag and started to get up.

"No, Miss Green. Stay right there. I'm not finished and class will start soon."

I vacillated but sat back down. "Yes, sir," I solemnly whispered.

"She wanted to visit every state in America."

I gave him an _are you joking _look but kept a decent-ish poker face.

"And I want to see my boyfriend play in his band at the Reading festival, though that's pretty goddamn unlikely," I retorted and ran out of the room.

It was true. I had wanted to see Gerard, Mikey, Ray, Frank and Bob at Reading. Call me crazy but I had wanted that for years.

I strode to the bathroom and locked myself in a stall. I sank onto the disgustingly grimy floor. I didn't cry. Crying was pointless. I just hoped. I hoped that maybe they would succeed at that one day. And I hoped that death wasn't going to be all too painful. Just going to school required a shit load of painkillers.

Oh, god, I felt my stomach rumble. Regurgitation.

I leaned over to the toilet and coughed. A liquid poured out of my throat. Something I wasn't all too familiar with... I thought maybe it was just soft puke or something. But I looked down into the bowl of doom and saw something stained, something colored. Something normal people didn't throw up. Something red...

It was blood.

* * *

><p><strong>Gerard's POV<strong>

"Now, Miss Peters, please work out this problem on the chalk board, would you?" Mr. Meyer asked Grace as she slowly stood up and strutted to him. Ick, her skirt showed her disgustingly awkward ass.

At that moment, I cared less about Grace's ass. She was pointless. Someone who'd become a famous hooker—or even better, a world class porn star.

Instead, I worried about Claire. She wasn't in class when I walked in and Mr. Meyer seemed particularly moody. Did she do something...?

Well, Claire was a sarcastic girl and because of what was happening to her, she did whatever she wanted.

Then, I heard sirens. Loud ones.

This couldn't be it.

Mr. Meyer raised his eyebrows and peeked out the blinds. I tried to catch a glimpse of the outside.

"Mr. Way..." he asked, gesturing for me to walk over towards him. "You are dating Miss Green, correct?"

Everyone stared at me. I gauchely, yet quickly, walked up to the window and looked outside.

She was strapped to a gurney. My Claire was strapped to a gurney.

* * *

><p><strong>Claire's POV<strong>

"Is she stable?"

"Not sure, Dr. Hanson is reading her records. She's sick."

"Oh. What are you giving her, Watson?"

"Painkillers."

"She was passed out in a bathroom with blood circling the toilet and you think she's in pain?"

"Rose, we don't know how she's feeling..."

The voices were silent for a second. I groggily opened my eyes to see a two nurses standing over me, one male, one female. I then felt something in my wrist. I looked down to see an IV tube.

"What... what happened?" I slowly asked, wondering if Gerard was okay.

"You're fine," the male who assumed was named Watson replied.

"I didn't ask how I was, I asked WHAT HAPPENED?"

The older woman, Rose, sternly said, "You were found unconscious."

"...Where am I?"

"An ambulance," Watson casually replied.

Rose hit his arm and muttered, "You'll feel a bit drowsy in just a few seconds, Sweetheart."

I saw another face move into the frame of my eyes, someone familiar. Though, he was blurry, I knew who I saw. I would know his face anywhere. But, he wasn't really there. I reached out to touch him and he disappeared.

Gerard.

* * *

><p><strong>Torosauras's POV<strong>

Gerard hadn't moved. He was still staring out the window even after the ambulance left. Everyone was staring at him, though he didn't seem to mind.

I was the one to have enough balls to stand up and tug on his arm.

"Hey, man, let's go."

"Where would you be going, Mr. Toro?" Mr. Meyer asked, placing his hands on his hips.

I smirked. "To Mikey's Unicorn Farm of course!"

With that, I led Gerard out of the room and down the hall. Into the courtyard and in the parking lot. I shoved him into the car and I put his seatbelt on for him. I was going to let Gerard live. He was crushed on the inside. Claire could've been dead or maybe she had just run out of meds. Who knew? Definitely not Gerard. And he needed to know.

I followed that goddamned ambulance down to the hospital. Gerard didn't say a word the whole ride there. He just had this _holy shit_expression.

"Gerard," I said after I was parked. I poked his arm. He didn't budge.

"Gerard," I repeated. Nothing.

"GERARD."

Nothing.

"GERARD MOTHERFUCKING WAY."

...He blinked.

Oh, thank the heavens for improvement.

"I can't do it," he vacantly muttered.

"Do what?"

"See her. I can't do it. What if she's...?"

"She isn't. Ambulances don't speed off if someone is already dead."

He looked down to his crotchal area. I prayed that he didn't have a boner at a time like this.

"What are you...?"

Oh. Never mind. He was just looking at his pants sadly. Like in movies when people look down and they're ashamed?

Anyway, I needed to help him. He was in pain. And he needed to know what the fuck was going on. So, I got out of the car, dragged him to the front desk, and asked to see Claire goddamn Green.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm so mean. Heh heh heh. I liked the Torosauras POV though xD

The chapter title makes no sense whatsoever with the chapter content but that's okay. 'Cause I usually try to make it work somehow but it just didn't happen this time.


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